The Little Flower Shop by the Sea

by Ali McNamara

  ‘Oh, Stan!’ I get up and hug him. ‘You say the nicest things.’

  ‘I only speak the truth, my dear. And if an old man like me can see it, and Ash, then why can’t this other fella too?’

  ‘Jake’s complicated,’ I say without thinking as I sit back down on my chair.

  ‘Oh, it’s Jake is it? Lou’s nephew.’

  I blush. Damn, I hadn’t wanted to reveal his name.

  ‘But isn’t that the fella you’re arranging the birthday party for?’ Stan’s brow crinkles.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Ah… the plot thickens.’

  ‘I’m just doing that as a favour to Jake’s children – Bronte and Charlie. They’re good kids, and they want to give their dad a special birthday.’

  ‘As do you,’ Stan says, nodding slowly. ‘Right?’

  My turn to nod.

  ‘Ah, Poppy, the human heart is a complicated thing. It rarely ever works in the way we want it to, without heartache and pain.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘But what I do know is life often has a way of pushing us down paths we don’t want to go, but find ourselves glad we did.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘How about I tell you a story?’ Stan asks. ‘It’s a long tale, but bear with me, it’ll be worth it.’

  ‘Sure. Why not?’ I say, indulging him as usual in his favourite pastime.

  I settle back in my deckchair to listen while Stan takes a deep breath and begins:

  ‘Many years ago in 1846 Queen Victoria visited Cornwall – did you know that? It was her only official visit here.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘So, to celebrate her visit, a local craftswoman embroidered a set of four pictures for her as a gift. On the day the Queen visited her town the woman managed to hand the pictures to the Queen’s lady-in-waiting, who showed them to the Queen there and then. The craftswoman was thrilled, as you can imagine.’

  ‘Yes, I’m with you so far,’ I say, wondering where all this is going.

  ‘Good. Well, the Queen’s lady-in-waiting had her eye on the then owner of Trecarlan, Lord Harrington. He was the MP for the area, and used to visit London frequently to attend Parliament. He and the lady-in-waiting moved in the same circles, and they’d had a bit of a fling when he was in London. So when she got the chance to visit his home… well, I don’t need to go into details. Let’s just say they made the most of the opportunity!’

  ‘Goodness, and there was me thinking the Victorians were all uptight and polite!’

  Stan grins. ‘That is just a fallacy; it was all going on behind the scenes. Anyway, the lady-in-waiting had to make a quick escape from the castle one day when she was summoned back to the Queen’s side earlier than expected. In her rush, she left behind her bag containing the pictures, and a handwritten note she was supposed to be delivering from the Queen to the craftswoman to thank her for the lovely flower embroidery.’

  ‘So the pictures remained at Trecarlan?’ I ask.

  Stan nods. ‘Not long after that, ownership of the castle changed hands. Sordid business, if local gossip is to be believed. Apparently Lord Harrington was up to his old tricks again, this time with the daughter of a local landowner.’ Stan tuts and shakes his head. ‘When they were found out, the father threatened Harrington with a very nasty fate if he didn’t stay well away from his daughter. But it was too late, the girl was already pregnant. So, to avoid a fate worse than death, Harrington fled the castle, taking most of his possessions with him. But he left behind the pictures, not thinking them to be worth anything. You’d be surprised at how many owners that house has had over the years, Poppy. Why, I could tell you some stories —’

  ‘This one is fine for now, Stan,’ I say, trying to keep him on track.

  ‘That was when my family, the Marracks, took over Trecarlan,’ Stan says, his eyes gleaming with pride. ‘That young girl was my great-great-grandmother, and the Marracks have lived in the castle ever since.’

  ‘Wow, that’s an amazing story,’ I say. But there’s one detail in his story that’s bothering me. ‘Stan, you said that the previous owner of Trecarlan was called Harrington, is that right?’

  Stan nods.

  ‘Could he possibly be any relation to Caroline Harrington-Smythe?’

  ‘Yes, I believe he might be,’ Stan says, as if it has only just occurred to him. ‘I remember when she told me the Parish Council would look after Trecarlan, she mentioned that she had some sort of heritage there. But I never made the connection.’

  ‘Hmm…’ I say, mulling it over. ‘If that’s true, it might explain why Caroline is always so difficult when it comes to Trecarlan. Some bit of ancient history meant her family didn’t inherit the castle and yours did. But what it doesn’t explain is… why she has a problem with me.’

  ‘Ah, that’s easy,’ Stan says, leaning back in his deckchair. ‘I remember that one.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes. Do you know why Daisy and William came to St Felix to open the original Daisy Chain shop?’

  ‘Er… no. I assumed they liked the seaside and wanted to live there.’

  Stan shakes his head. ‘It was because Daisy’s grandmother lived in St Felix. She was a maid at the castle in her younger days.’

  ‘So?’ I ask, not following this.

  ‘Daisy’s grandmother, so the story goes, was the person that dropped Lord Harrington in it. She’d seen everything that had gone on at the castle while she was working there.’

  ‘Ah… it all makes sense now. That’s why Caroline has a problem with me – my ancestor was responsible for her not inheriting Trecarlan!’

  ‘It would seem so,’ Stan says. ‘History is a strange thing.’

  ‘Well, good on my family for stopping the Harringtons from having the castle, that’s what I say. Caroline certainly wouldn’t have made a very good lady of the manor.’

  Stan nods in agreement. ‘If it hadn’t been for Daisy’s grandmother, we might not be sitting here in this lovely sunshine together.’

  ‘Exactly! So what happened to those embroidered pictures? Are they still in the castle?’

  Stan shakes his head. ‘No, and this is the second part of the story. Stick with me, Poppy, I said it was long. As I mentioned earlier, in my day I had my fair share of female attention from the ladies of the town – your grandmother included.’

  I open my eyes wide. I hadn’t expected to hear that, but then my grandmother always did seem to have a soft spot for Stan.

  ‘After your grandfather passed, Rose and I spent a great deal of time together, and during our time, as a sign of my affection, I gave her one of the embroidered pictures – the one of a purple rose.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ I exclaim, remembering. ‘We found it in one of the old boxes that were stored away in the shop. That would explain why it had the initials VR stitched into it – Victoria Regina! Once you know about the Queen Victoria connection, it all makes sense.’

  ‘Rose kept her picture then?’ Stan asks, looking pleased. ‘I hoped she might. Do you know what purple roses mean, Poppy?’

  ‘I do, as a matter of fact; Amber used them as one of the wedding flowers. They mean enchantment.’

  ‘Exactly. Your grandmother was always utterly enchanting, which is why I gave her that particular picture.’

  ‘How lovely, but I don’t see…’

  ‘Patience, Poppy, I’m getting there, give me time. You’ll remember there were four pictures in this set. The second, I gave to another lady friend of mine, who I think you also know – Lou.’

  ‘Stan, you old devil! Lou, too?’

  Stan smiles sheepishly. ‘What can I say? There were a lot of lovely ladies in St Felix back then, it was the seventies, it was all about free love. Lou’s picture was of a sweet pea – it means delicate pleasures, and Lou was —’

  ‘No, Stan! Enough information, thank you,’ I tell him, but I’m smiling when I say it. Who would have thought old Stan was such a ladies’ man! ‘Lou still has hers
too,’ I tell him. ‘It’s hung up in her hall. I noticed it in a cluster of pictures the day Basil’s puppies were born.’

  ‘Good old Lou,’ Stan says. ‘It was such a joy when I heard she’d returned to St Felix. I’d missed seeing her.’

  ‘So you had Rose, Lou, and who else on the go?’

  ‘Oh no, only one lady at a time, Poppy, give me some credit.’ He raises his white brows at me. ‘There were only ever three ladies in my life I cared about, that’s why I gave them each a picture. The last was Isabelle. She wasn’t in St Felix long though, her family took her away shortly after we got to know each other. Her gift was the embroidered picture of a pink carnation, it means I will never forget you – and I didn’t, Poppy, I still remember her as if it was yesterday.’ He looks wistfully across the Camberley gardens as he remembers, and I let him sit with his memories for a few moments.

  ‘I wasn’t promiscuous, Poppy,’ Stan insists, coming back to the present day once more. ‘I don’t want you to think that. I held these ladies in great esteem, that’s why I gave them each a gift as a sign of my deep affection. Valuable gifts.’

  ‘It really is a lovely story, Stan, but why are you telling me all this?’

  ‘Love comes wrapped in many different packages, Poppy. Sometimes it’s fleeting – like Lord Harrington’s affairs – sometimes much of it comes around at once – like my ladies of St Felix. And sometimes,’ he swallows, ‘sometimes, you fall in love with someone who can’t be yours, but you never forget them – like Isabelle.’

  ‘Oh, Stan.’

  ‘No, no, I’m not telling you this so you can feel sorry for me, Poppy. I’m telling you so you understand that, whatever sort of love it is, it’s always for a reason. Love is too powerful an emotion for us to feel it otherwise. You mark my words; your feelings for Jake will be for a reason. Just you wait and see.’

  Thirty-four

  Heliotrope – Devoted Affection

  It’s the evening of Jake’s fortieth birthday party, and Amber, Ash and I walk up the hill to Trecarlan Castle.

  Amber is wearing a beautiful, long, rainbow-coloured dress with gladiator sandals. Having been through my entire wardrobe and not found a single thing suitable to wear, I’ve borrowed another of Amber’s dresses: a gorgeous gown in duck-egg blue – a colour I don’t think I’ve ever worn in my life, and would certainly never have chosen for myself if Amber hadn’t encouraged me into it. The dress has embroidery all over the fitted bust and thin straps, with a loose, flowing, gossamer-soft skirt below.

  It’s a good job Amber and I are a similar size or I don’t know what I’d have done. Amber seems able to create endless different outfits, some of which she brought with her from New York, and some she’s made up from items she picks up in the charity shops of St Felix and the surrounding area.

  Bronte, Charlie and myself have instructed all the guests to get to the castle fifteen minutes before the birthday boy is due to arrive at 7.30 p.m., and Woody has been put in charge of getting Jake to the party. None of us have a clue how Woody’s going to get him there, but Bronte and Charlie have told me not to worry, it’s all in hand.

  When we arrive at the castle we are ushered inside by Charlie and told where to go and hide. Ash and Amber seem quite excited by all the subversive behaviour, but I can’t help wondering just how much Jake will enjoy being surprised like this. Jake has always struck me as being very down-to-earth and practical, I’m not sure surprise parties are really his idea of fun. On the other hand, Jake’s kids mean the world to him, and knowing they were the ones who’d organised this bash, he would make damn sure he enjoyed it.

  As we arrive in the ballroom, I realise just how popular Jake is in St Felix. The place is already packed out with people holding glasses of fizz, eagerly waiting to congratulate him. There is a huge birthday banner hanging over one wall, leaving no one in any doubt as to what age Jake is turning today, and the white tablecloths that had looked so serene and elegant at the wedding are decorated with colourful helium-filled balloons and confetti 40s.

  At the appointed time we all squeeze into a tiny room behind the main ballroom. Stan had once told me it was for ladies to powder their faces during the huge balls that were held at the castle in the last century. But as we all squeeze together in the dark like sardines, it’s hard to imagine an elegant powder room with ladies gossiping about their beaux.

  ‘Ssh,’ someone hisses, ‘he’s here.’

  We all stand as quietly as we can, waiting for our signal, and then we hear Jake’s voice.

  ‘What the hell is going on, Woody? Why have you brought me here?’

  ‘Go!’ someone shouts, and we all jump out of the powder room calling ‘Surprise!’

  But it’s not just Jake who gets a shock. So do we when we see him standing in the middle of the ballroom with his arms handcuffed behind his back.

  ‘What the hell?’ he cries, seeing us all.

  ‘Happy birthday, Dad!’ yell Bronte and Charlie, rushing forward to hug him with Miley in their arms.

  Jake tries to hug them back, but finds he’s still incapacitated.

  ‘So this is why you arrested me in my own home!’ Jake exclaims, turning to Woody, as Miley climbs on to his shoulder. ‘I thought you’d lost it!’

  ‘Sorry, Jake,’ Woody says, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking the handcuffs. ‘It was my job to get you here without you guessing what was going on, and that was the only thing I could think of that was guaranteed to work.’

  ‘Arresting me?’ Jake says, rubbing at his wrists.

  ‘I did check with Bronte and Charlie first,’ Woody says, looking embarrassed. ‘They said you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘I bet they did,’ Jake says gruffly, turning to his children. ‘However…’ He stops pretending to be cross and grins. ‘I think I can forgive you. This all looks amazing!’

  ‘Have a drink, Jake,’ Lou says, thrusting a glass of bubbly into his hand. ‘Happy birthday!’ she says, lifting her own glass.

  ‘Thank you, Lou.’ Jake turns around to face his guests. ‘Cheers, everyone!’ He lifts his glass in a toast. ‘And thank you all for coming!’

  The party is a great success; one of the local bands we had at the wedding is playing, and people soon begin flooding on to the dance floor to boogie the night away. There is plenty of booze (another pop-up bar provided by the Merry Mermaid) and refreshments (provided by St Felix’s new catering team of Richie, Ant and Dec).

  ‘How fabulous is this?’ I ask Charlie a bit later when I bump into him at the buffet table. ‘You and Bronte have done brilliantly.’

  ‘We couldn’t have done it without you, Poppy, and the rest of the town chipping in to help,’ he says. ‘Everyone wanted to be involved again, that’s how we ended with so much stuff.’ He gestures to the long table. ‘Even after Ant and Dec offered to cater for us, we still had loads of offers of sandwiches and desserts. We didn’t know what to do with it all.’

  ‘That’s because your dad is so popular.’ I look at the plates of food set out on the table. ‘It seems to be disappearing rapidly. I don’t think you’ll have a lot left.’

  ‘I know, the people of St Felix sure are hungry!’

  ‘My son!’ Jake comes over and wraps his arm around Charlie. It looks as though he’s had quite a few drinks already. ‘Aren’t I the luckiest dad in the world to have two fantastic children?’

  ‘Yes, without a doubt.’ I smile at Jake. It’s good to see him again. We haven’t seen each other properly since the strange events at his nursery, and I’d wondered if tonight might be a bit awkward. But judging by the look on Jake’s face it’s anything but.

  ‘And can you believe how old I am today, Poppy?’

  I open my mouth to reply, but he continues: ‘Forty! Forty years old – when did that happen?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘I just wish Felicity was here to see all this.’ He throws his arm out to the ballroom. ‘She always loved a party, especially birthdays.’ The happiness in
his face changes to sadness.

  Charlie puts a hand on his father’s shoulder. ‘I’m sure Mum is here in spirit, Dad.’

  Jake nods. ‘Yes, you’re right. Did I ever tell you, Charlie, what a good kid you are?’

  Charlie grins. ‘Just a few times tonight.’

  ‘Good, good,’ Jake says, patting him on the back. ‘Now then, Poppy,’ Jake says, swaying a little as he lets go of Charlie. ‘Do you dance?’